


Those who Counted

by LostPoe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Molly is a Good Friend, Post Reichenbach, References to Suicide, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-17
Updated: 2012-10-17
Packaged: 2017-11-16 12:21:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostPoe/pseuds/LostPoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bitter sweet conversation between John and Molly over the loss of Sherlock as the three year anniversary of his fall approaches. </p>
<p>Post Fall. Short Tumblr fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those who Counted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [graphic_winged_observer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/graphic_winged_observer/gifts).



> Hello again!!
> 
> Yet another Tumblr fic here as it seems I can't write anything multi chapter yet! This is for the ever so lovely graphic_winged_observer whom I follow/chat with on Tumblr! I asked for a prompt and she gave me some great options! This is the first one... I may attempt another once I finish another ask fic from another follower! :3
> 
> With that said I have never written Molly before, so sorry if she seems a little out of character! I did try :3
> 
> Not Beta'd or Brit picked as per usual!

“S-sorry, were you waiting long?”

“Hmm…? Oh no its fine Molly, please sit” John looked up at the women, a tried smile on his face. It seemed it was all he could muster as of late; halfhearted smiles and forced emotion filled gestures. Everything felt like that; forced and faked but it hurt to do so with Molly. She had been so kind to him all this time, popping by either Baker Street or the Surgery. 

It only took a moment of silence between them before the waiter comes by to take her order. They were in a small restaurant just a few blocks from Barts; it was as close as John could bear to come. Every couple months Molly would invite him here for lunch to catch up, get him away from his usual haunts. He supposed haunts was a good way of describing it as he really didn’t occupy space any longer; just lingering without leaving much of a mark. There wasn’t much left to him, not since…..

“How are you doing John? Mrs Hudson said you left the Surgery?” Molly inquires, her gentle eyes filled with concern. Everyone seemed so concerned, all stepping on egg shells around him as if they said or moved wrong that he would crack. Even Lestrade, which surprised him as the man was always very upfront about everything. There were pints every so often with the yard, who each would carefully dance around the subject that hung over all of them. The guilt that they had been wrong to doubt the man they had all worked with. That their doubt had led to those horrid events and a great man had been lost because of it. So those egg shells remained, like the once brave and loyal solider was this broken thing on the brink. Perhaps he was.

 

“I was thinking of leaving Baker Street…. leaving London” John stated, his hand griping his coffee mug to hide its tremor.

 

“We all miss him John…. but Sherlock-” She paused, seeing the man before her flinch at the mere mention of his name. “He wouldn’t want you to leave.. I don’t want you to leave…me, Mrs Hudson and Mr Lestrade would miss life without you”

 

Molly looked up to see the waiter come over with her coffee before retreating; as if sensing the topic wasn’t one he should interrupt with a offer of food. Wrapping her small hands around the stark white mug, she studied John for a moment as if choosing her words wisely. She knew enough to know that when he said leaving London he didn’t really mean it in the way he’d spun it. The deep heavy sadness was something she had seen before in him but there seemed to be something a little different. As if some sort of hope had been squashed, that an unspoken miracle hadn’t quite been fulfilled.

She was at a loss and seeing her friend in such an emotional state was worrying. It was nearing the third year since Sherlock fell, and it was around this time everyone was on edge. They had all thought it would get easier for everyone as time went on but it seemed that him being gone left a huge hole in everyone. And as John broke the silence this time, it showed that some missed him more then others still.

“He was this great bloody whirl wind.. he came flouncing in like a giant git and made everything… bright and exciting… warm…” He explained, staring long and hard into his drink. “And as quickly as he came he left and took everything with him and now… its dark again and I don’t know how to find my way out” His voice broke, mixed with horrible emotions swirling there. His eyes darted up when a small hand covered his own, his own blue eyes meeting soft brown.

“He’s not really gone…. he’s still right there…” She pointed to the blondes chest, a small sad smile on her face. “You were always his heart and that is how his memory will carry on.. because you are living proof that he was real and without you then all those papers would be proven right” Molly squeezed Johns hand as a reassurance. “Someone once told me that you count… and that you’ve always counted and you John; being here counts for something” She smiled, watching Johns nose crinkle a little as he digested everything she’d just told him.

“If I’m his heart… then that explains a lot…. someone had to have the common sense between the two of us?” John joked weakly, earning a soft giggle in response. “I’m surprised he didn’t keep me in a jar then…. on his shelf next to the eyeballs and toes” he ventured again, smiling a little easier now. The heavy feeling on his chest seemed a little less now, knowing that someone seemed to understand him a little. He could tell that out of everyone Molly seemed to understand how he felt. For as awkward as she always seemed she sure knew what to say at the right times.

As if a great storm had been blown over, he sipped his coffee as Molly told him about the time she had caught Sherlock ‘borrowing’ a lung from the morgue. This had to be one of the more successful talks between the two of them. Normally they would dance around the subject of Sherlock like all of his conversations with everyone else but today had felt different. This was the one miracle he hadn’t been initially looking for; the one of healing.

“John…. are you really going to leave Baker Street?” Molly suddenly asked when she stood from her seat. They had been there for little over an hour, swapping stories about their departed friend. Both seemed to have been cheering each other up in their own awkward sort of way, finding they had more in common then before.

Shaking his head, he fished his wallet from his back pocket and tossed a new notes onto the table. “No…. not yet anyways….” He replied whilst grabbing his cane and standing.

“Good…. you’ll tell me if you think about it again…. wont you?” Molly asked timidly, hands wringing her purse strap.

“Of course.” John said after a moments pause. Seeing the women nod, he walked her out to the street before catching a cab home; to Baker street and all its ghosts.  
———-

The walk home that evening from the tube was a quiet one, the clouds were drawing in close as Molly approached her flat. Heading inside the building, she drew her keys out of her purse only to find the door already ajar. Normally a single women alone would panic and run to the closest neighbor but Molly simply pushed the door further open and walked inside. Leaving her keys in the bowl by the front door, she left her purse beside it before stepping upon the fringes of her living room.

“How is he?” The voice came from the tall slender figure, standing in the shadows the window made.

“He’s not doing well….. I think you should—” Molly began, biting her lip harshly at the sound her company made. Her eyes narrowed in hurt, not only for herself but for John as well.

“You don’t understand Molly! I will not put him at risk for some silly worry of yours, I cannot come back.” Came the response from the shadows. The deep baritone sounded sharp and not at all as airy as it used to be. It was jaded and dark, filled with a deep longing and sorrow that she had ever heard in it before. “Not yet.”

“Then you’ll be coming home to nothing….” She near shouted, which surprised not only herself but her company as well. Nervously toying with the hem of her coat, she took it off and draped it over the back of a chair. Running her hands down the front of her jumper, she approached her visitor; ever the meek gentle women. “He’s very sad Sherlock…”

“Its been three years, that’s more then enough time to mourn his loss and carry on… I don’t understand why he would still be upset…” Sherlock retorted, turning ever so slightly to look at Molly for the first time since she entered the room.

”If you didn’t understand then you wouldn’t have me checking up on him all the time..” She sucked in a breath as she geared up to continue. “You care… more then you are willing to admit and it troubles you because you know he cares too”

A silence fell between them, just the sound of cars and buses speeding along the street below. The chatter of passers by heading home or for some just heading out on the town. It thrummed with life, pulsing with noise and movement of a city that stops for no one.

“No.. he wont… not after this…” Sherlock whispered, his voice tight with emotion. “He wont forgive me for this… he will see this as a betrayal of his trust…. something he takes very seriously.” He turned away full from the window and stalked out of the room. It was always like this when they spoke of John; he would get overcome with emotions he wasn’t yet able to decipher and would disappear.

“You’re wrong Sherlock and that in itself is the saddest part of all….” Molly called back to him, standing her ground. His back was to her now as he stood in the doorway of her flat, ready to escape back into the big bad world. Watching his shoulders tense, the hold on the door frame turned bruised knuckles white before he slipped away into the darkness.


End file.
